


Stay Shotgun Until the Day I Die

by skyshadedblue



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Polyglot Derek, Road Trips, Wanna say this is crack but so many feels idk, sucking up to the UC system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyshadedblue/pseuds/skyshadedblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek go on a college tour, sort of. Actually, does this even count?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Shotgun Until the Day I Die

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposedly a canon compliant fic, but my headcanon dictates it to be canon divergent future fic, so.
> 
> The prompt is from [howonpotter](http://howonpotter.tumblr.com). "food and people," she said. And there were attached pics of kbbq. Somehow, this fic turned into an ode to the UC system. Obviously, I am amazing with prompts.
> 
> Title from Walk the Moon's "[Next in Line](http://youtu.be/9RAPtw_FkDo)".

“But I’ve already decided on Davis, there’s no reason why I should take the time to--”

“Stiles,” his dad says, with a calm demeanor Stiles knows not to break, “I know you’ve decided, but I also know for a fact that you chose it for its proximity to home. Now, while I’m all for keeping you close and having you home more often, I want you to explore your other options. Make sure you know what doors you’re closing.”

“But, Dad, I don’t need--”

“Stop, right there. I’m not telling you to choose something else. Just... Just...” Stiles’ dad sighs. “Just go and see, alright?”

Stiles looks at him for a few moments, knows the fight is lost, and nods.

His dad’s right. He should see. A short trip down won’t hurt, and besides, it’s not like he’ll change his mind. He can treat it like a little vacation.

 

“I could go with you if you want.”

“Oh, geez!” Stiles spins around, arms flying to guard his head.

He sees Derek sitting by the bedroom window and an uncomfortable prickle runs down his back, the adrenaline rush induced by shock leaving as quickly as it had come.

“I think it’s time we put a bell on you,” Stiles says, a little out of breath and waving a finger at him. “And what do you mean? Go with me where?”

“To SoCal. Check out schools.” Derek shrugs. “Your dad won’t be able to go with you, right?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Stiles squints at Derek. It’s mostly for show; Stiles doesn’t really mind if Derek heard, but he doesn’t want to encourage werewolves’ general creeper tendencies as okay all the time. What if he was having some Stiles alone time?

“I was passing by. Caught something about college,” Derek says, trails off all nonchalantly. Like he isn’t sad that the pack that’s finally come together is splitting up.

“And you wondered if you could be of any help,” Stiles finishes.

Derek nods.

Stiles can’t say it’s a bad idea. In fact, it’s a really good one and, in any case, there’s no reason why he can’t. So he agrees.

 

They decide to drive down.

A generally mutual agreement, Stiles wanting to see the sights and enjoy a dad-sanctioned break from school, and Derek not really caring for planes. Not that he can’t, just that he’d rather not.

Stiles offers to pay for half the trip, Derek offers to pay for the entire trip, and it’s a big ordeal until the Sheriff gets involved and negotiates it so that Stiles pays for gas and Derek springs for board.

They leave before dawn on a Thursday morning because Derek hates LA traffic and wants to miss it all if possible.Take a quick look at UCLA and skip on down to Irvine for the night. It’s a 6-hour drive to LA, plus a 20 minute pit stop more than halfway down in Kettleman City. Stiles stares out the window through a lot of the trip, but fills in small gaps with idle chatter. The long silences in between are unfamiliar, but comfortable. Derek has stamina for the long drive--even through the heat of the Grapevine at summer's edge.

They reach the campus before lunch and take a self-guided tour through the points of interest. Stiles had noticed Derek fidgeting more and more the deeper they breached city, but he feels him relaxing the longer they walk. Stiles would have thought that having lived in New York for a period of time, Derek would be in his element in a big city like this. Stiles voices his opinion as such. Derek gives a non-answer, half mumble, half-grunt, and points out the Inverted Fountain. Stiles lets it go. 

They reach a large, open plaza area and sit themselves down for lunch. Derek had the foresight to bring his cooler with the sandwiches he packed. Stiles chooses a cool, shaded patch of grass on a knoll for them to rest.

“So I take it you like this school then?” Stiles asks.

“I’m not the one with the choice.”

“You’re helping me with mine.” Stiles stops, unsure what to say.

The two eat in silence. Stiles doesn’t know what to expect from Derek, but he’s not entirely uneasy. That’s what he likes about Derek. It doesn’t really matter where they are or what they’re doing--even if he doesn’t have anything to say--just knowing he’s there makes Stiles feel... right.

“LA grates on me,” Derek says, out of the blue. Stiles watches him for more. “Here, it’s better, but... Most of it is polluted and devoid of nature.” He pauses, searching for what to say next. “New York was the same, but definitely light years away from how it makes me feel here.”

Stiles looks out across the lawn. “I guess that strikes this school out then.”

“Stiles, you haven’t even looked at the whole campus yet, or the facilities.”

“What’s the point if you’re not gonna visit?” Stiles notices his slip and hurriedly adds, “I mean, if you don’t feel good here, chances are neither will any of the wolves and I’ll be that one pathetic dude who studies in his room all the time because he doesn’t have any friends. Cause they won’t visit.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “You’ll be fine. And I’d still visit. Just because I don’t like being here doesn’t mean I don’t like being around you. I came here with you, didn’t I?”

Stiles has to think about it for a second. He doesn’t know what to say, so he blurts out, “You like being around me?”

Derek huffs. “Think about it. Get back to me when your brain’s capacity includes perceiving the obvious.” He starts packing up the remnants of their meal and walks off.

Stiles jogs after him. “Hey! Wait up, Wolf Man!”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon checking out whatever else until traffic stops being a bitch--direct quote straight out of Derek’s mouth--and then head south to Irvine. Stiles tells Derek he’s never had Korean barbeque and Derek makes that face where he’s glaring and Stiles knows it means he’s ready to educate the uneducated.

They stop by a place for dinner in Garden Grove. There’s a short wait, but then they’re headed to a table in the middle of a crowded room smelling of charred meats.

A large screen plays music videos in Korean, the beats and rhythm of it so catching that Stiles soon can’t help humming and tapping along with it despite not understanding a word--give or take some random English phrases.

“Do you know what you want yet?”

Stiles shakes his head, side-eyeing the menu. “No, you order whatever, I’m sure I’ll be fine with it.”

“Why don’t we do all-you-can-eat then?”

“Sounds good.”

Derek waves down a waiter and relays the food they want. In a deft mix of English and Korean.

The waiter looks impressed, says so, and leaves with their order.

“Wait, what the heck, Derek? You speak Korean?”

“A little. Only enough for some light conversation,” Derek replies, having the decency to flush a light shade of pink.

“How? For how long?”

“I was in Communications Club my last year in college, had a language exchange partner from Korea who taught me a few things. Kira knows some Korean, too, so we chat sometimes to help each other brush up.”

“And not for a class. Color me impressed.” Stiles pauses as their waiter returns to set the grill up and set out the side dishes. “I can barely get by in Spanish and I’ve taken like three years of it.”

“It’s different when you’re learning a language for fun or even necessity versus because you need it to fill a vacancy in your class schedule.”

“Necessity?”

“Why do you think I learned Spanish?”

Stiles looks away at that, watches the waiter ambling over with a large tray laden with plates of meat. “Right.”

He doesn’t want to think about why Derek had to learn Spanish, but he can’t help thinking it’s awesome that he has more than one language at his disposal. It’s a little attractive. A lot attractive. Utterly and undeniably attractive, if Stiles is being brutally honest.

“So,” Stiles clears his throat, “how do we eat this stuff?”

 

The food is amazing. Derek shows him the ropes of Korean barbeque, but in the end, he takes over the whole job.

It’s nice to let Derek take care of him. Stiles doesn’t hold back the compliments.

“The way you handle meat is so pro,” Stiles moans as Derek serves him more, “The marinade is done so well, too! Like, I want to caress the meat with my tongue.” He stuffs more in his mouth. “Forever,” he mumbles, mouth full.

“Are you sure you can fit all that in your mouth?” Derek snarks.

Stiles looks down at his plate and back up at Derek, not sure what Derek is gunning for. “Challenge accepted.”

Stiles is pretty sure Derek regrets all his life choices right then and there.

 

“You tired?” Derek asks.

“I’m okay, actually.” They’ve unpacked for the night in their hotel room, but Stiles feels surprisingly awake.

Derek hums. “The Irvine campus is a short drive from here. We could get some dessert and take a night tour.”

“Oh, sure,” Stiles replies.

They drive in companionable silence. Neither of them question it, or bother filling it. Stiles wonders when this happened, that they could just _be_ together. Feel less alone with each other.

Stiles doesn’t let his thoughts linger too long on it.

They get dessert at a tea place in the shopping center off campus, the place buzzing with Stiles’ potential peers, and walk with it across an overpass to the school. They share a “creamy cooler” and finish it before they reach the buildings; it’s delicious, whatever it really is.

The night is quiet, almost peaceful, particularly as they walk through a large park in the middle of campus, Aldrich Park. The only sound is Derek’s occasional and odd trivia of the buildings they pass, and the little bits of information regarding various departments. Stiles winces, seeing a police car so obviously hidden in the shadows. Stiles doesn’t feel safer for it but he does feel a vague sort of homely comfort in seeing it.

Derek sees Stiles eyeing the car and says, “The city is ranked as the safest in the nation. Lowest violent crime rate. Students feel safe walking around on their own, even at this time of night.”

Stiles stops and stares at Derek for a good while. Derek takes a moment to catch on, pauses to see what the holdup is.

“You know a lot about this area. LA, too,” Stiles says.

Derek looks more solemn suddenly, the moon hanging just above the copse lighting his face. “I transferred here my last two years, when Laura wanted to go to UCLA.” He directs his gaze at Stiles. “We visited each other a lot.”

“You never said.”

“It didn’t occur to me to bring it up.”

Stiles frowned. Derek, he knew, was private by nature, but this ran deeper than Stiles realized.

“It’s okay,” Stiles gives him a small smile, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want. I understand.”

“No, it’s fine.” Derek clears his throat. “Here, I’ll take you to the Social Science Plazas. The view from the top of the stairs is pretty nice.”

 

“You play baseball?” Stiles shouts, almost directly in Derek’s ear.

“Played,” Derek says, shifting away from him and covering his ear. “I was recruited to play for UCI--it was how I got in.”

“Sports scholarship,” Stiles mutters, lying back down. “Of course.”

“You got into this school on a scholarship, too, Kettle.”

It’s close to three in the morning. They should really head back to their hotel and to their respective beds, but here they are, stargazing on their backs atop the steps between SSPA and SSPB, according to Derek. Whatever that means. Not many stars visible from what Stiles can tell. Cool air breezes across Stiles’ face. He could fall asleep here.

“So when are we leaving for SD?” Stiles asks, thinks for a second and adds, “Do we really need to go down and see that too? I think I’ve made a pretty solid decision. And,” Stiles tries to keep his voice even, “staying around here for a couple more days doesn’t sound too horrible.”

“We only have two other campuses to visit, Stiles. It can’t be so difficult.”

“They have dorms here named after locations in the Lord of the Rings, Derek. Lord of the Rings, Derek. How can anything compete after knowing that? Middle Earth, Derek. I am all for living in Middle Earth.”

Derek is quiet then.

“Does this mean you’ve decided on Irvine?”

Stiles freezes, unable to turn his head to face him.

Had he decided? Is this place where he really wants to be?

He knows he’d be safe here. Safer, anyway. Nothing’s guaranteed. But after the supernatural high school experience he’s endured, a quiet, sheltered campus life might be a good distance from it all. Derek feels safe here, and that’s something huge to take into account. Stiles can feel how comforted Derek is here, how much more freely and easily he makes conversation.

Stiles wants to know more about the place that gives Derek a sense of tranquility and security. The ability to live his life without worry.

“I don’t know,” Stiles finally replies. “It feels good here. But so did Davis, at the time. And Davis is closer to home.”

And that’s true, too. Davis, from what he remembers, is a sprawling campus, far from the bigger cities, filled with bikes and the smell of cow dung. And only an hour and a half’s drive from Beacon Hills.

“If you go to Davis, you can be an aggie,” Derek quips.

Stiles laughs. This place really does have him letting loose.

“Pbffft, and what would I be in Irvine, huh?”

“Anteater. Zot zot,” Derek says, totally straight faced and doing some weird pecking motion with his hand.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

 

They don’t get back to the hotel until very late--or very early depending on which way you look at it.

Derek had planned on attending that day’s campus walking tour, but Stiles refused to wake up before noon. Instead, after a late lunch, Derek took him on a self-guided tour.

Stiles took in the sights of the hustle and bustle of the day. Clubs flyering along Ring Mall, students resting on benches, studying on the steps in front of lecture halls.

Not unfamiliar scenes to take in, but Stiles doesn’t know what makes it feel different.

By the end of the day, Stiles is beat. Who knew just walking all day would be so exhausting?

It’s a good kind of exhausting though--so unlike the kind he’d felt after running through the preserve, away from a snarling, wild-eyed alpha. Stiles is glad Peter’s dead again. Good times.

The problem is that Stiles still doesn’t know what he wants to do, where he wants to go. He does however know that he doesn’t want to see any other schools. He’s had enough difficult decisions to make and giving him more options is the least helpful thing he could do to himself. He had received acceptance letters from six UC’s and he already knows he wouldn’t enjoy being in over half of them based on location alone, Irvine now being the exception.

Stiles can’t deny that Derek is playing a very important part in this opinion, but he would also never deny that Derek’s opinion is important to him.

Maybe, that’s what makes it different. Stiles honestly doesn’t care where he goes--only that wherever it is, it’d be a place that would feel like home isn’t too far away.

The room is dark, and Stiles hears Derek’s steady, even breaths across from him.

“Derek?”

It takes a second, but Derek twists around on his bed to face Stiles. “Yeah.”

“You’d stay with me, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

Stiles feels his heartbeat speed up, paralyzed with thinking.

“If I--Let’s say I chose to be here. Would you--stay. With me,” Stiles whispers, tries not to feel like an idiot.

Derek’s eyes are closed and Stiles isn’t sure if he’s fallen back asleep or what, but then his eyes fly open and bore into him, and Stiles can’t hide, can only stare back with his stomach lodged in his throat.

“I would do anything for you,” Derek replies, voice low enough that Stiles could pretend he didn’t hear a word, that his heart didn’t nearly leap out his mouth and into Derek’s trusted, capable hands.

All he says in answer is, “Same.”

 

Stiles manages to convince Derek that continuing to visit other schools as planned would be moot point, so they spend another day in Irvine, exploring the local hotspots--

(“Strickland’s Frozen Custard.”

“It’s amazing, alright?” says Derek, leaving no room for argument.

“You lick it like a dick.”

“That is not true and probably the least appropriate thing to say in front of children who are _right there, Stiles_.”)

\--before packing up the next morning to make their way back home.

They stop by three different specialty bakeries along the way because Derek is apparently some sort of pastry aficionado. Stiles is learning all kinds of new things about Derek on this trip. And all of them attractive. The new things about Derek, that is, not the pastries--though those are goddamned delicious.

“Seriously, man, I have a newfound appreciation for your vast banks of knowledge,” Stiles says, “mainly regarding food.” He takes a bite out of a cream puff.

“Nice to hear I’m good for something.” Derek keeps his eyes on the road.

Stiles watches Derek’s face, unsure of Derek’s seriousness, unable to keep earnestness from his voice. “You’re good for everything.” He hurries to correct himself when Derek raises his brow. “No, I mean--You’re... That’s not the only thing you’re good for. Is what I’m saying.”

Stiles looks down, his words failing him, but Derek’s hand creeps over to squeeze his, and he relaxes. Derek’s kind of smiling, like he gets what Stiles is trying to say.

He can’t help smiling back. He holds Derek’s hand in his, and grips back.

 

Stiles keeps Derek’s hand until they reach the first pit stop, squeezing it occasionally to remind Derek he’s still there. Like they’d forget somehow. It’s sweaty and hot, but settling nonetheless. Stiles falls in and out of sleep all the while, remembering at random intervals that he was riding in Derek’s mom car, feeling safe and simultaneously hysterical that the past few days seemed to have altered his life in the slightest and most inconceivable way.

He doesn’t think that he could leave Derek’s side right now--or ever.

Stiles thinks about his dad, what he would say if Stiles told him about this, about Derek. What would Derek say? He doesn’t want to ruin a good thing, like he’s done so many times before. With Lydia. Heather. Malia.

He knows he should try. He wants to try because that’s what he does. He tries, and he fails, but he makes the effort because if he doesn’t, he won’t know what he’s giving up.

The fact is, if there's anything he's learned on this trip, it's that Stiles needs to know.

They’re almost home. Probably an hour away. Derek has a tired set about his shoulders, from the drive, but he looks content. It’s a good look on him.

“We’ve come a long way,” Stiles says.

Derek gives him a sidelong glance. “Mhm.”

“You think we’ll make it?”

“No guarantee,” says Derek, his grip on Stiles tightening.

Stiles’ face heats up. “You’ll follow no matter where I go, right?”

Derek smiles. “To the ends of the earth, probably.”

“What about Irvine?”

Derek glances at Stiles, their hands firmly together.

They’re closing in towards home.

Derek grins. “Anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading~


End file.
